


Manipulation Of The Mind

by GayRainbowBridge



Series: Frosthawk Stories/Oneshots [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Attempted Murder, Depressed Clint Barton, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Insecurity, Loki's Scepter (Marvel), M/M, Mind Control, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Suicide Attempt, Supportive Avengers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-15 15:55:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 12,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28566561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GayRainbowBridge/pseuds/GayRainbowBridge
Summary: Nightmares of Clint killing the people he loves keep the archer awake at night. After a savage attack of attempt murder on his best friend, Clint decides that it's no longer safe to live with the Avengers and puts himself in Shield custody. But Shield isn't all it seems.Tortured beyond what would be considered humanly possible, Clint only gets worse with his night terrors and wishes for someone to save him. But when he finally is saved, he regrets it as the person that saves him is the last person he'd ever expect.
Relationships: Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov, Clint Barton/Loki
Series: Frosthawk Stories/Oneshots [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2095068
Comments: 5
Kudos: 25





	1. Chapter 1

⚠ **️** **Warning: murder, strong violence** ⚠ **️**

°•°•°•°

"Clint, stop!"

Clint could barely hear her screams, pleading with him, trying to make him listen. He wouldn't, couldn't even if he wanted to. The hand that gripped the knife tightly wasn't his own. It didn't obey his command.

The figure in front of him crouched low, fear in her green eyes as she stared up at him, fear of the monster he'd become. He didn't want to be, but he couldn't control himself. He couldn't control his movements or what he said. The only thing he could control was his thoughts and that was in absolute chaos.

Internally, he was screaming. Screaming at himself to stop, to drop the knife, to move away from the person he cared about, that did everything for him. That loved him and would never stop loving him no matter what he did.

Outside, his face was calm, cool, and cold. The knife held in his hand was already splattered in blood. The figure that pressed her back against the wall was equally blood splattered. Only, unlike the knife, the blood belonged to her.

"Clint! Clint, please! Please, don't do this. Please," she begged as he drew nearer. "Clint, you're _better_ than this! You're _stronger_ than this! You _have_ to fight it!" Her voice was growing a higher pitch the more frightened she grew.

In his head, Clint was yelling that he was trying to fight it. Every fibre of his being was trying to fight it. But outside he just regarded her with cold dead eyes. "I don't have to fight anything. This is who I am."

"No, you're not! Clint, please—"

But Clint didn't wait for her to finish. In a fluid, precise movement, he brought the knife down sideways, slicing across her throat. Blood spurted from the would, running down her neck and staining the neckline a dark red.

Her green eyes went wide as she tried to speak but only blood poured from her throat, a strange gurgling noise emitting from her. She was choking on her own blood. There was a voice in his ear that he felt only he could hear. But it wasn't saying anything. It was laughing. Cold, cruel laughter as if it found amusement in watching her die.

Clint surveyed the damage with a calm and almost calculating expression on his face, the laughter growing louder and louder-

Then all of a sudden, whatever hold was over him, broke.

His face turned to one of horror and terror. He stood frozen, and powerless as he stared at her, the one person he would always care about, bleed out in front of him, green eyes looking blank, a surprised expression on her pale face. Clint knew she was dead.

Then he fell to his knees, his legs having given out and screamed like his body was on fire as Natasha's dead eyes gazed into his own.

* * *

Clint woke, the scream on his lips breaking the silence of the night. His scream was abruptly cut off when he realised where he was. He was in his bed, in his own room, not a dead body in sight.

Clint let out a shaky sigh of relief. Only a dream.

He glanced at his bedside table at the digital alarm clock and saw it was one in the morning. Swallowing hard, he threw the blankets off of him feeling hot and cold at the same time and stood unsteadily, his head spinning.

Forcing himself to walk over to his door alone seemed like an effort. He pulled in open, stepping out into the hall, looking around, but no one was up. Of course no one was up.

Not bothering to shut his door, he crept down the hall, looking around to make sure no one else was in sight before coming to one of the doors at the end of the hall.

He didn't knock since it was so late. He never needed to anyway. Pushing the door open, he went inside, gently shutting the door before going over to the bed.

And there she was. Safe and sound, fast asleep. Clint felt like sobbing in relief. The dream had seemed so real. He had needed to be sure that she was alright.

He came closer, crouching down next to the bed just so he could see the slow rise and fall of her chest feeling soothed at the sight of her breathing. He reached out but stopped a few centimeters away from her face. He was scared to touch her, even if he meant no harm to her. Scared of the nightmares...

She stirred as if sensing his presence, her eyes fluttering open, looking around in the dark room before spotting him. "Clint?"

"Tasha." He pulled his hand back, holding it close to his chest as if he was afraid to touch any part of her and burn her.

"What are you doing in here?" She asked, not as if she was angry. She never got angry at Clint for being in her room. It was a more curious tone.

"I..." Clint's breathing sped up as he thought of the nightmare. "I wanted to make sure you were...okay," he said quietly, almost saying 'alive' which would have only worried her.

She frowned at him as if she knew he was keeping something from her. "Clint—"

"I had another nightmare," Clint blurted out before he could think better of it. "I had a nightmare. The same...type of nightmare," he said, knowing she would know what he meant.

She seemed to understand. "What happened?"

"I-I slit your throat," Clint said, feeling mildly sick. "I cut your neck open with a knife. There was so much blood..."

"Oh, Clint," she said softly when she saw the tears that had gathered in his eyes.

"It seemed so real. So real," Clint whispered, swallowing hard as he had the feeling of something being stuck in his throat. "I'm scared, Tasha. This is the third night in a row that I've had dreams like this and three weeks since they started. I can't..."

"This isn't your fault, Clint. Loki—"

"Don't," Clint interrupted quickly, "say his name."

Natasha sighed. "He got in your head. He made you do bad things. But none of that is your fault. He's not there anymore. He's not in your head. He can't hurt you anymore."

"I'm not worried about being hurt," Clint whispered. "I'm worried about hurting you."

"You won't hurt me. You would never hurt me. They're just bad dreams," Natasha reassured him.

Clint was silent.

Natasha sighed and took the hand Clint had against his chest, making him jump. She tugged him onto the bed. "Here," she said, making him lie down beside her and threw the cover over him.

"But Tasha—"

"No, none of that," she said, already knowing he would say that it wasn't a good idea. "Come on. You're exhausted."

"I..." he trailed off, knowing there was no point to argue with her. Besides, she was right, like always. He was exhausted. He had hardly gotten any sleep since the New York attack and the recent nightmares had made it three times worse. He needed to relax and let himself sleep and the only way he was going to get it was to sleep with Natasha. He always felt more relaxed around her. "Thanks Tasha."

•°•°•°•

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ✒So, I love Clint, shipped with like, pretty much anyone. Clint and Tony are my fav, but Clint and Loki are a close second. So, I thought of this and was like, 'what the heck?' so yeah. You'll love the plot twists I'm planning. It's gonna be awesome >:3✒


	2. Chapter 2

⚠ **️** **Warning:** **mentions of attempt suicide, self harm,** **strong** **language⚠️**

°•°•°•°

Clint woke the next morning feeling more rested than he had in a long time. Natasha was pressed against his side, sleeping soundly and Clint hated to have to wake her. When he got up the nerve to (because he was partially afraid Nat would shoot him for waking her) she hit him with a pillow, grumbling before getting up for the day. Better than being shot in the ass.

When he got down to the kitchen Steve was making pancakes as per usual. "Hey, Clint. Nat. Want some pancakes?"

Natasha accepted, but Clint shook his head mutely. He didn't feel up for pancakes. Not after the bad dreams he was having recently. He went over to the couches, sitting down beside Tony who looked at him with the usual happiness at seeing the archer.

"So, Clint. We're watching a movie tonight. Care to join?" Tony asked, grinning as the archer who smiled wryly.

"Sure. Why not? What are we watching?" Clint asked.

"Tangled," the genius answered. "Thor wants to watch it."

"What is it with Thor and Disney movies?" Clint asked, to which Thor, who was sitting on the other couch beside Bruce digging into pancakes when he looked up with a hurt expression.

"I like Disney..." Thor said, pouting.

"Never mind, Thor," Steve said, who had come over with Natasha, food in hand which he handed to Tony. "You sure you don't want pancakes, Clint?"

Again, Clint shook his head. Steve frowned, looking concerned but didn't push it, Sitting down on an unoccupied seat, Natasha sitting on Clint's other side.

"It's been super quiet, huh?" Tony said to no one in particular. "You'd think there'd be more criminal activity since Loki broke out—"

"What?!" Clint exclaimed. "What do you mean Lo—that _he_ broke out? Broke out of where?!"

Tony blinked. "Prison, obviously. Didn't I tell you...?"

"No! You didn't tell me! Fuck, Tony!" Clint swore, standing up as his feelings of agitation grew.

"Clint—" Natasha started but the archer had already walked away, back to his room most likely.

Tony bit his lip. "I fucked up, didn't I?"

"It's not you," Natasha sighed. "He hasn't been getting a lot of sleep lately. He's just tired and cranky."

"Yeah, I noticed. He looks exhausted," Steve said softly. "He hasn't eaten properly in the past few days. I'm worried about him."

"Is the Eye Of Hawk alright?" Thor asked.

Natasha smiled. "I'll go check on him."

She got up and left, a fear deep in her bones startling her as she raced off to find Clint.

* * *

Clint sat on the cold tiled floor of the bathroom, tears prickling the back of his eyes, fear he'd never known coursing through him. He couldn't believe that _he_ was out. Had somehow escaped from prison. He'd felt...well, not exactly safe, but better knowing that the man that had caused him so much pain was behind bars. But he'd escaped. Escaped and was on the loose...

...and the thought terrified Clint.

He breathed raggedly, wishing he was stronger than this. Wishing he was better than all of this. But he wasn't. He couldn't be strong for himself. Couldn't get Loki out of his head. Couldn't get the dreams he'd been having out of his head. He was scared. He was so scared and felt so alone and so weak, powerless.

He dug the razor a bit deeper into his arm, blood making the hold on it slippery. Older cuts littered his arms. There was a ragged scar on both his wrists from when he was back in control, after the whole New York attack.

When he'd tried to end it all.

He thought it would be the easy way out of his problems. When he woke up the next morning, still alive, he realised he was just a coward, not strong enough to face his problems. He'd bandaged the cuts that hadn't been as deep as he had thought to kill and went on about his day, pretending nothing was wrong. Not even Natasha seemed to think anything was wrong. The one person who knew him best.

Then the nightmares started. Tormenting his every sleeping moment and making him fear being around the others. That's when the self harm got into full affect. He didn't want to die. At least, not where the Avengers would find his body after. He didn't want them to know he was a coward. But he still cut, still hurt himself to get away from the thoughts, the fears.

Just like now.

Tears spilled as he cut another ragged line, pressing down harder. _'_ _This will make it stop_ _',_ he thought to himself almost feverishly. _'_ _This will make it go away_ _.'_

"Clint?!"

Clint jumped and the razor slid against his skin, a deep cut being sliced down the length of his arm. He swore loudly, his head whipping to the door. "I-I'm busy, Tasha."

"Clint," she heard her sigh before the knob rattled. "Why is the door locked?"

"I'm trying to piss, obviously," Clint said, scrambling up and grabbing a towel, pressing it to the floor to clean up the blood that had spilled across it.

"You never lock the door. That's how I know what you look like naked," Natasha said, trying to sound joke-ish, but Clint could hear the undertone of worry in her voice and worked faster to clean the rest of the mess up. He shoved the now bloody towel under the sink, slamming the cupboard shut harder then he meant to. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing, Tasha," Clint said, his voice pitching in his panic, throwing back on his long sleeved t-shirt, biting his lip hard as the fabric rubbed against his fresh wounds. "I'll be out in a minute. One second."

"Open the door. You don't have anything I haven't seen before," Natasha said, almost demandingly this time.

"Hold on! I'm almost...almost done," he muttered, mostly to himself. He picked up the razor where he'd dropped it on the floor, rushing to the sink to rinse it off before putting it in the cabinet behind some shampoo bottles.

"Clinton, open this door. I'm not kidding around anymore," Natasha said and Clint could hear the warning in her voice. Either he opened the door or she would break it down.

"Alright, alright," he said, sliding over to the door and turned the lock, opening it to find a father pissed off Natasha.

"Why the hell did you lock the door?" She said, green eyes demanding. But she also had concern written in them. Concern for him. She was worried about him, he knew. They all were. But he didn't want them to have to deal with his problems.

And he was ashamed. Ashamed at how weak he was.

"I told you. I was going for a wizz. Would you like me to demonstrate it to you?" Clint asked sarcastically, walking past her.

Her gaze followed him, calculatingly. "I didn't hear the toilet flush."

Clint froze, the thought not having crossed his mind. He breathed shallowly, trying to think up a believable excuse, but his mind was blank.

Natasha saw him tense. Her eyebrow knitted together in concern. She was worried now. Clint would never lie to her. Not unless it was something serious.

She walked over to him where he stood frozen, not facing her. She slid her arms around him from behind, clasping them against his stomach and could hear his rapid breathing. One certain thought processed in her mind.

Something isn't right.

"Clint," she whispered softly. "Tell me what's going on. Please."

•°•°•°•

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ✒I hope you guys like this chapter. I actually like this book a lot, so hopefully regular updates. I mean, this is the second time I updated this and I only published it today! Also, this is my favourite written face now >:3 You'll be seeing it a lot more often in this book✒


	3. Chapter 3

⚠ **️** **Warning: angst, hurt, murder, strong violence** ⚠ **️**

°•°•°•°

Clint swallowed repeatedly, trying to get his breathing back under control, but he couldn't. Everything was going to hell. All the secrets and lies were slowly falling apart and he was terrified inside.

"Tash, I—"

"Don't lie," she said, not harshly, but insistent, pleading. "Don't lie to me, Clint. Just tell me what's going on. Let me help you."

Clint felt the tears slip down his cheeks before he realised he was actually crying. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to stop them, bowing his head down. He couldn't do this anymore. He couldn't lie anymore.

He turned, Natasha pulling back slightly so he could, looking up at his face trying to meet his eyes but he wouldn't look at her, his eyes cast to the floor.

"Clinton," she said, so softly with such care like he was the most important thing in the world, "please. Tell me what's going on. I need you to tell me. I know something is wrong and I want to help. You know I don't judge and I would never judge you. But I need you to not lie to me. I need you to tell me the truth."

He met her eyes then and she was shocked by the utter helplessness and fear in them. Clint never looked helpless. He never showed fear. He would hide it away if he felt it, but this wasn't just any old fear. He looked like a trapped cornered animal with no way out.

"Don't be mad," he whispered.

She didn't understand why he thought that she would be mad, but nodded regardless.

Clint's eyes fell away from hers, not wanting to see the horror in them when she found out what was going on with him. Didn't want to see the disappointment.

He reached down, slowly, hesitantly to his shirt sleeve, gripping the end of it tightly. He paused, feeling out of breath even though he'd hardly done anything before pulling savagely at the sleeve, yanking it up and showing the skin of his arm.

Natasha's breathing seemed to freeze in her lungs, her eyes going wide.

"Oh, Clint," she breathed.

"I'm sorry," Clint said quietly, barely above a whisper. He still wasn't looking at her, but off to the side. He didn't want to see the mess he'd made of his arms, or the horror he was sure laid in her eyes. "I-I'm so sorry, T-Tasha. I just...I couldn't—" He hiccupped, tears falling freely down his face. Everything was too much. He hated feeling so scared all the time. He hated having to burden Natasha with his problems.

Clint flinched as her warm hand touched his cheek, wiping away the tears with her thumb, shushing him softly. She had her arms around his again, comforting, warm, safe. He sobbed, burying his face into the crook of her neck, squeezing his eyes shut tight. He just wanted the world to go away, for everything to go back to the way it was before New York's attack.

He felt her arms leave from around him, her hand slipping into his as she walked back and Clint numbly followed before he was being gently sat down on the edge of the bed.

She turned away but he clutched to her hand before she could get out of reach. "No, please don't go—"

"I'm not," she said softly. "I'm getting a First Aid kit. I'll be back in a moment. I'm not leaving."

Clint forced a nod, letting her hand slip out of his and dropped it in his lap as she went into the bathroom. She searched through the cupboards, grimacing when she found the bloodied towel hidden there, before snatching up the First Aid kit and went back to where Clint said looking as if the world had tipped upside down.

She knelt down in front of him, gently taking his arm. She cleaned off the blood that had started drying to his skin with a damp cloth before taking out a roll of bandage. He couldn't look at her as she bandaged it. He held back a gasp of pain by biting at his lip, his head turned to the side.

It seemed like an eternity even though Natasha was quick and efficient, done under less than five minutes. He still couldn't look at her, he felt so ashamed of himself, ashamed at what he had done, that he was so weak.

"Tash," he started but she shook her head, standing up and kissing his forehead gently with warm lips.

"You don't have to say anything," she said gently, eyes soft. "You don't have to explain yourself. I understand why."

Clint gave a shaky laugh. "You always knew me best."

"I still know you best," she said, smiling slightly. "I know that you've done this because of the nightmares. I know they scare you, Clint. I know you haven't gotten past what Loki did to you."

Clint shivered at the god's name.

She put her hand to his cheek and he held it there. "But you don't have to do this alone. The others care about you. They want you to be okay. I want you to be okay. But this isn't the way to help yourself."

"I know," Clint said quietly. "I know I shouldn't do this. But I'm so scared, all the time. I'm terrified of what's happening to me. It feels like he's always there, lurking in the shadows, just behind my line of vision. He has a hold on me, Nat. And I can't break free from it."

Natasha exhaled softly. "You can. You just have to be strong."

_'But I'm not,'_ Clint thought. _'I'm not strong. I never have been and I never will be.'_

"Come on," she said, sitting up on the bed near the headboard and opened her arms to him. "Come on, you need to sleep. You're exhausted."

"No, Nat, I can't," Clint said, shaking his head violently. He didn't want to have more dreams.

"I'm right here," Natasha told him, "I'll wake you up if anything happens."

Clint hesitated for a moment longer before giving in. He was exhausted. He needed the rest and he always had a better sleep when he was with Natasha. He moved over to her, letting her hold him in her arms as he rested on his side. He didn't want to close his eyes, but he felt them droop shut.

In minutes he was asleep.

* * *

The nightmare started in an instant.

He was in the lounge. Everyone was talking, chatting, paying him no mind. They seemed to not even notice he was there. The way he wanted it.

He crossed the room to the kitchen, the sounds of sizzling and the smell of delicious cooking food wafting from it. He entered, looking around curiously. There was Steve, cooking pancakes, breakfast, for everyone else.

He glanced over at Clint and smiled. "Hey. I'm making pancakes. They'll be ready soon."

Clint nodded once and Steve went back to cooking, turning his back on Clint.

The archer glanced to the side table and saw a knife laying on a cutting board. He reached over, picking it up in his left hand by the sharp blade and sliced his thumb open. Blood trickled down, but he felt no pain. There was no sting or spark of pain. Nothing.

He put the handle in his right hand, holding it tightly eyes on the glinting blade, reflecting the light.

Steve still hadn't turned to look at him too focused on making food. Clint slowly walked up behind him, the knife clutched tightly in his hand. Clint stared at the back of Steve with dead eyes.

He raised the knife above his head and brought it down in a swift fluid arc.

The knife sunk into Steve back who gasped, blue eyes flying wide. He looked down as if in surprise seeing the knife point sticking out his chest, an almost comical look of surprise on his face before blood dribbled from his mouth.

Clint yanked the knife back and Steve collapsed to the ground, blue eyes still open and glassy looking.

Like it always did, the spell broke. The hold on his vanished and with it, Clint's heart as he opened his mouth, the knife clattering to the floor...

...and he screamed.

•°•°•°•

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ✒Don't panic guys, it's just a dream...or is it? >:3✒


	4. Chapter 4

Clint woke up screaming, yelling as if someone were driving a knife in his heart, twisting at it as it went in. He thrashed around, his breathing hitching, screaming louder and louder like he was on fire.

"Clint! Clint, calm down!"

He whipped around, eyes looking wild as he panted, staring at Natasha who was holding his hands tightly.

"There. It's okay. Just a nightmare," she said softly, opening his fingers and rubbing soothing circles against his palm with her thumb. Clint's breathing slowed, focusing his mind on the movement on his palm. She knew physical contact helped calm him down. She always knew exactly what he needed.

Clint was shaking as if he had a chill. Which in a sense, he did. Right deep down in his bones. "I-I killed S-Steve."

Natasha exhaled slowly. "You didn't kill Steve. You didn't kill anyone. It was a nightmare, Clint."

"It felt so real..." Clint swallowed harshly. His hands were shaking in Natasha's who still gripped them tightly, not letting him go and still tracing soothing circles in the palm of his hand. He looked around the room, trying to get his bearings and saw it was dark out. Did he sleep though the whole day?

"It wasn't, I promise you," Natasha said, but Clint didn't seem convinced.

"Why is this happening to me?" Clint whispered.

Natasha sighed. "Nothing is happening to you, Clint. They're just nightmares. They can't..." she trailed off, glancing away.

"Hurt me?" Clint finished, looking down at his bandaged arms.

Natasha bit her lip, before sighing, reaching over to the drawers side table and pulling out a fresh shirt. "Here," she said, holding it out for him to take.

Clint took it gratefully, ridding of the bloodied shirt he wore and throwing on the clean one, pulling down the sleeves so it hid the bandages from view. But it still didn't change what he'd done.

There was a knock at the door making them both look up as it opened revealing Tony who grinned, not seeming to notice anything wrong. "Hey, you still coming to movie night?"

Clint took a shaky breath. "U-um, yeah. Yeah, I am."

Tony shifted on his feet, obviously uncomfortable but it didn't seem to be because of the mood the room had been in before he entered. "I, uh, wanted to apologize. For before. I should have made it priority in letting you know first—"

"No, Tony! It's fine, really. I shouldn't have overreacted like that," Clint said quickly and Tony nodded.

"Friends again?" Tony asked and Clint smiled.

"Always," Clint assured him, making Tony grin.

"I'll see you there, Katniss," Tony joked and Clint took up a pillow, throwing just as the door shut, Tony's laugh being heard through the wood.

"I'm not a girl!" Clint shouted, but he was smiling despite himself.

"Better?" Natasha asked with a small smile of her own.

Clint nodded, resting his head on her shoulder and closing his eyes with a sigh. "Maybe a movie will be a good distraction from...everything," he said, waving his hand in a vague gesture. The bandages on his arm peeked out from under the shirt he wore.

Natasha silently disagreed. Something was off, but she didn't want to tell that to Clint. She knew it would only freak him out.

"Come on, then. They're not going to wait for us," Natasha told him, getting up and offering a hand that Clint gladly accepted, pulling him up. She didn't let his hand go either, holding it tightly as they left, giving it a reassuring squeeze every now and then to let Clint know everything was alright.

She tried to convince herself it was true.

* * *

"Yes, Steve. It'll be in color."

"How old is the movie then?"

"It's not that old."

"Are you sure? Because—"

"Clint!" Tony exclaimed as the archer entered the room. "Thank gods. You can sit next to me. This old man is talking my ear off."

Steve frowned. "I was only—"

"Hey, you can sit next to Thor? You two old timers will get along great! Go on. Shoo," Tony said making unnecessary shooing motions with his hands.

Steve grumbled, but got up to sit beside Thor who seemed pleased that Steve was sitting next to him.

"Popcorn?" Tony offered Clint who sat next to him but the archer shook his head.

"I'm not that hungry," Clint said, trying for a smile.

Tony bit his lip, but nodded. He never tried to push Clint. "Alright. If you want any then just let me know, 'kay?"

Clint nodded.

Tony was worried. They all were. Clint was looking increasingly sickly. He had bags under his eyes making him look older than he was and he was getting thinner. He wasn't eating properly, something that Steve had pointed out. But nobody wanted to bring it up. Clint didn't like being pushed. Only Natasha could talk to him without him getting defensive.

They all hoped Natasha had talked to him and figured out what was going on. They'd have to ask later. But for now they all needed to relax.

"Let us travel the wonders of a _colored film_ ," Tony said 'colored film' rather pointedly as he glanced at Steve who rolled his eyes, "of the one and only...Tangled!"

He pressed play and the movie started while Clint silently laughed. This was why Tony was his best friend beside Natasha. He always knew just what to say or do to make him smile.

Tony grinned at him before relaxing back on the couch, enjoying the movie with the others. Clint tried to follow his example, leaning back into the couch, his eyes on the TV.

It didn't take long before sleepiness started to overcome him. He thought sleeping through the entire day would have stopped him from being so tired, but he could barely keep his eyes open as Rupunzel sang that 'flower gleam and glow' song. His eyelids drooped and had to stifle a yawn.

Tony glanced at his friend and saw how much he was struggling to stay awake. Tony gave a small smile, teaching over and wrapping an arm around Clint's waist, pulling him to him. "It's alright, buddy. Get some sleep."

"'M no' tired," Clint mumbled, though his eyes had already closed shut against his will. He didn't want to sleep. He couldn't.

But the warm embrace of Tony's arms and the lull of the song on the TV was making it increasingly harder to stay awake.

"Shush. Sleep," Tony stated, brushing back the hair from Clint's forehead, giving it a quick kiss. Clint would have told him that was rather gay of him, but he was too tired to say anything. Clint just couldn't fight it anymore. He was just too exhausted, the missed sleep finally catching up with him.

 _'Natasha's here. Natasha will know what to do if I have a nightmare. I can spare a few minutes to sleep'_ , Clint thought to himself, desperately willing himself to believe it as darkness enveloped him.

And the nightmare began.

•°•°•°•

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ✒Aaannnddd, I'll leave it there. Suffer thy cliffhanger! Mwahahaha!!!✒


	5. Chapter 5

⚠️ **Warning** **: attempt murder, strong language, strong violence** ⚠️

•°•°•°•

Clint sat up slowly, eyes racking his surroundings. He was in the same spot he had been when he fell asleep which wasn't overly unusual. When the nightmares started they were usually always started in the place where he had fallen asleep.

That being, he was sitting on the couch in the lounge. The TV was turned off along with the lights so the room was dark. But Clint could still make out the things around him.

He could feel the hold on his mind and knew what was coming, knowing there was no way to stop it. Though he still fought, screaming and pounding the mental walls of his mind, trying to take back control. Nightmare or not, he couldn't handle watching himself kill his friends again.

The Clint who was being controlled like a puppet looked around the room curiously.

There were his friends still in the room but all fast asleep. Steve was asleep against Thors side who was sleeping and snoring loudly. Bruce was curled up under a blanket that had been thrown over him.

Puppet Clint glanced to his right and saw Natasha who was asleep also. Mental Clint's heart constricted painfully. Not Natasha again. He didn't want to kill Natasha again. He didn't want to kill anyone anymore!

But Puppet Clint turned his head away, looking to his left where a light shine of blue was seen.

Tony.

The genius was asleep like the others, mumbling in his sleep, his eyebrows knitted together as if he were dreaming of his projects he was still doing and working out. Not an ounce of care of the fact that his life was in danger.

Puppet Clint moved closer to Tony's sleeping form. Mental Clint screamed for Tony to wake up, but there was nothing he could do, banging his fists until they were bloody against the mental walls.

Puppet Clint straddled Tony's waist and if it had been another time, Clint would have thought this was a rather sexual position to be in. But now wasn't the time. It wasn't the time at all.

_'Please, wake up!'_ Clint yelled desperately. _'Tony, wake the fuck up!'_

But for all the good it did, Clint could scream his throat until it was sore. Tony couldn't hear him.

Puppet Clint looked down at Tony with a measured look. His face was blank, besides the slight curiosity in it.

_'This_ _can't_ _be happening. It can't._ _Tony's_ _my best friend, please!'_ Clint thought, pressing his bloody hands to the mental walls of his mind he was trapped in.

Puppet Clint suddenly grinned wickedly, reaching down and took the edge of Tony's shirt he wore and drew it up his chest.

_'What...?'_ Clint watched with confused eyes. What were they doing?

He got no answers as Puppet Clint studied Tony's bare chest, eyes flicking over it, the arc reactor's blue light glowing faintly, the only source of light in the dark room.

Puppet Clint smiled, blue eyes glowing with an unusual light to them that wasn't Clint's normal shade of blue as he reached forward, pressing his hand to the reactor.

_'What are they doing?!'_ Mental Clint thought a feeling of panic coming over him.

Puppet Clint cocked his head to the side as if intrigued. He circled the edge of the reactor with a finger.

_'It's_ _just_ _a_ _dream_ _._ _It's just_ _a dream'_ , Clint told himself feverishly. _'It's not real. It_ _isn't_ _real._ _You'll_ _wake up and it'll be a dream. Don't panic.'_

But it was still hard to watch as the hands that weren't his own but at the same time were, suddenly dug its nails into the grooves of the reactor.

Clint banged his fist violently against the mental wall. _'No! Stop!'_ He yelled. He couldn't help it. It seemed so real. Fake and real at the same time.

Puppet Clint didn't listen. Clint wondered if they could even hear him.

Tony groaned, shifting uncomfortably.

_'Tony, wake up! Fucking wake up!'_ Clint pleaded, knowing he couldn't hear him, but he couldn't help it. He needed to do something, even if it felt like he was screaming at a blank wall.

Puppet Clint twisted the reactor in a violent movement and it popped free, wires still connected to it.

Mental was in full panic now, hoping, wishing someone would wake up and see what was going on. That Tony would wake up and stop it. But that was all he could do. Hope, wish, and scream.

Tony mumbled again, shifting before he suddenly blinked his eyes open. He looked up at Puppet Clint's blank face.

_'Oh, thank fuck'_ , Clint muttered. But he wasn't out of danger yet. Puppet Clint didn't seem fazed that Tony had woken up who blinked up at him.

"Clint?" He asked sleepily.

Puppet Clint gave him a cold smile. "Who the hell is Clint?"

Tony glanced at Clint's hand that was held up and his eyes went wide, seeing what held in his hand. "What—"

Puppet Clint savagely yanked the reactor and the wires connecting it pulled away from Tony's body.

Tony gasped, jerking underneath Clint, brown eyes going wide, looking half shocked and half betrayed as he stared at the reactor in Clint's hand.

Puppet Clint grinned as Tony gasped for air, hands scrabbling at the hole in his chest.

"C-Clin—" he choked on his words, eyes rolling back in his head.

_'NO!'_ Mental Clint screamed. _'Please no,_ _please_ _, please, please!'_

Puppet Clint leaned back, a look of satisfaction on his face as he watched Tony twitch and whimper.

_'Let this be another bad_ _dream_ _'_ , Mental Clint thought desperately. _'Please.'_

Tony violently convulsed and yelled in pain. The yell woke everyone else.

All hell broke loose.

Clint felt arms around him, yanking him off of Tony's convulsing body.

Puppet Clint snarled, trying to fight his way out of the tight grip of whoever was holding him, but they had a strong hold on him.

There was shouting and yelling. Puppet Clint shoved himself forward and the hold on his was released, along with the hold on his mind.

He yelped, tripping over his feet and he hit the floor hard, his head whacking the edge of the table making him shout in pain which shocked him.

He'd never felt pain during any dream or nightmare. Never.

Why did he feel it now?

He groaned, putting a hand to the spot he had hit and could feel a bruise already forming.

Everything grew fuzzy around him and he squeezed his eyes shut, willing the nightmare to go away. Then the light faded away and he fell into darkness.

* * *

It was only moments later that he blinked his eyes open, looking around and could hear people yelling and shouting. Everything seemed blurred around the edges.

What had happened? What was going on?

He was clutching tightly in his hand. He barely processed that he was on the floor, Thor shouting something at him as he glanced down to see what it was he was holding.

His eyes went wide and felt as if he were going to throw up.

It was Tony's arc reactor.

•°•°•°•

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ✒Mwahahahaha!!! More cliffhangers!!! I'm so eViL!!!✒


	6. Chapter 6

⚠️ **Warning: mentions of self harm, mentions of self harm** ⚠️

°•°•°•°

Clint woke next with a pounding headache.

His body ached, his head throbbed and everything just _hurt_. Clint wondered if he had gotten drunk because everything seemed slightly groggy like he was having a hangover or something.

He sat up, going to put a hand to his throbbing head but was stopped short by something holding down his wrist.

He looked down and had a sense of deja vu, remembering how after he had been broken from Loki's control, he'd been restrained to a bed just in case he was still dangerous.

Now however, the restraint was only on his right wrist, a shackle or cuff, holding him to the coffee table. He was sitting on a couch, a blanket over him and chained to a coffee table.

He almost wished he did have a hangover from getting drunk, because the alternative to why he was chained to the table wasn't ideal.

"Clinton?"

Clint's head snapped up at the familiar female's voice. "Tasha," he gasped.

Natasha stood near the doorway, clearly just having entered the room. She walked over, kneeling down in front of Clint, her eyebrows knitted together.

Clint swallowed harshly, his dream...what he did, coming into his mind. "Tony. Is...is he okay?" He asked, dread settling in. Oh dear God. What if Tony was de—

Clint shoved the possibility forcefully from his mind. He couldn't let the thought in or else he'd break down.

Natasha sighed softly but nodded. "He's better. We managed to get the reactor back in him after you...but he's okay now. Resting."

Clint breathed raggedy. "I almost killed him."

"That wasn't you," Natasha said firmly. "Thor, when he grabbed you to pull you away from Tony, he saw your eyes were glowing blue. Like—"

"When I was under L-Loki's control," Clint finished, stuttering on the name.

She nodded in confirmation.

"That just makes it worse. So much worse. He's controlling me. These aren't just nightmares anymore!" Clint was breathing shallowly now, panic clouding rational thoughts.

Natasha shushed him softly, a hand on his cheek. "I know, Clint. I know. We're going to figure this out."

Clint whimpered. "I'm dangerous."

"You're being used," Natasha corrected. "We'll figure out how to stop this, but I need you to focus."

Clint took a shaky breath, forcing a nod.

Natasha sighed, leaning up at kissing Clint forehead gently with warm lips before standing. "Jarvis? Can you please get the others for me?"

"Of course, Miss Romanoff," came Jarvis's reply.

Natasha turned to Clint who was trying not to have a panic attack it seemed. She sat beside him, pulling him to her, arms around him as he buried his face into the crook of her neck, sobbing softly.

"Clint...I need you to tell them what's going on," she said slowly.

Clint leaned back, looking at her with watery blue eyes. His normal blue, not the glowing blue that they had all seen. "Even the..." his voice broke, his arms suddenly aching.

Natasha understood and nodded. "I know you don't want to, but they need to understand this isn't you. They're all pretty freaked out. They need to trust you."

" _I_ don't even trust me. How am I meant to get _them_ to trust me," Clint protested.

"Just tell them the truth," Natasha said simply.

They both looked over as their team mates entered, save Tony who was resting after the whole drama from before.

Clint couldn't meet their eyes, keeping his own trained to his lap. His hands twitched so he balled them up into fists.

He had tried so hard to keep what was happening to him from the others and now it was falling apart. He didn't know if he should feel relieved or horrified at the thought.

They had all sat down but still Clint couldn't look at them.

Natasha sat next to Clint, taking his unchained hand and rubbing soothing circles into the palm of his hand. "We all know why we're here," she spoke out to them."I know you all have questions and they will get answered. But Clint is going to explain what's been happening to him and why this has happened. And I don't want anyone interrupting him while he does. This is taking a lot of courage on his part, so you'll all be quiet until he's finished, understand?"

There was a faint murmur of agreement.

Natasha gave Clint's hand a reassuring squeeze. "Go on. It's okay."

Clint swallowed hard, taking a deep breath before he started explaining everything.

"It started a few weeks ago. I was having these nightmares. Dreams that...that I killed Natasha," Clint shuddered. "They always felt so real so when I woke up, the first time it happened, I was panicked. I thought I actually had killed her. I went to check on her and found her alive. She was fine. But I wasn't. The first time it happened, I puked. I felt so sick. I was scared. Natasha told me the nightmares were probably because of what L-Loki did to me. Controlling me. She said not to worry and that they would go away on their own."

Clint signed. "They didn't go away. They kept happening, almost every night. It was usually Natasha. But then it became others. Steve or Bruce, or Thor..." Clint bit his lip hard, closing his eyes shut tight. "I would kill you in my dream. But it wasn't me. It always felt like something was controlling me, forcing me to kill you all. Just before the dream ended, the control would break and I'd scream because of what I had done. Then I'd wake up and realise it wasn't real. But the thought didn't help."

"I was scared of whatever was happening to me. I couldn't eat because of it. I didn't want to sleep in fear of having the nightmares. I...I was scared. I didn't know what to do..." Clint felt a tear run down his cheek. "I wanted it to go away. All my problems were piling up and I wanted to deal with it on my own. I didn't want you all involved. So I...I hurt myself. Badly. I wanted to die. I thought if I did then I wouldn't be able to hurt you."

There was an uneasy silence as Clint forced himself on, to breathe and keep going. He wouldn't be able to explain this again.

"After New York, after I was myself and Loki's control over me was gone...I tried to end it. I slit my wrists and the blood loss made me pass out. But I woke up and I bandaged the cuts only because I didn't want...I didn't want you all to know that I was so weak. I wanted to get away from the Tower, from all of you before I did it. S-so you would never know what I did," Clint said, his voice shaking as he opened his eyes again, but still didn't look up.

"I thought I was dangerous...and I am. I almost killed Tony. If he hadn't woken up, he'd be dead now. I'm not safe. You're not safe around me," Clint choked out. "I can't live here anymore. I can't let you be in danger of me. I know this is because of Loki. He broke out of Asgards prison and now he's controlling me somehow. Whatever mind control he put on me is still working. He's manipulating my mind and controlling my thoughts. I...I can't stay. I have to get help. I know that only Shield can do that. I'll go there. They'll help me."

"The hell they will!"

They all looked around, even Clint, a startled expression on his face as he stared at the doorway.

Tony stood there looking absolutely pissed.

•°•°•°•

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ✒I've updated so much this week. I'm so proud of myself! I'm hoping that the Frosthawk will be happening soon, but yeah. Sorry for the wait for it to happen✒


	7. Chapter 7

⚠️ **Warning: strong violence** ⚠ **️**

°•°•°•°

"Tony," Clint breathed, eyes wide.

Tony went over to him, still looking rather pissed but also worried as fuck. "Hey, are you okay?" He asked, crouching down in front of him.

Clint stared at him. "Am _I_ okay? Tony, I tried to rip out your _heart_! And you're asking if I'm okay?!" He exclaimed.

Tony managed a smile. "I'm not the one being possessed by a crazy Norse god," he defended himself.

Clint breathing hitched. "Y-you...you heard that?"

Tony gave a small nod. "I heard everything," he said softly and tears pooled up in Clint's eyes. Tony pressed his lips tightly together and gently took the long sleeve of the shirt Clint wore and pulled in up revealing the white bandages underneath. "So you did bandage it. Good."

"I'm sorry," Clint whispered.

Tony shook his head. "Don't be. I don't need you to apologize. I need you to get better. And Shield is sure as fuck not going to do that for you."

"I'm dangerous, Tony. You aren't safe around me. None of you are," Clint said, looking at the others. "I have to get him out of my head. And only Shield knows how to do that."

"We can always get a frying pan and hit you really hard on the head too, you know," Tony said, trying to lighten the mood and Clint managed a smile. But it disappeared quickly.

"This is my choice, Tony. You're my best friend and I don't want to hurt you. But I need you to respect my choice to go to Shield. Please," Clint said, his tone pleading and his eyes begging Tony to understand.

Tony looked as if he was biting his tongue rather painfully, emotions passing conflictingly across his face. "I don't think it's a good idea. I don't trust Shield."

"I don't either. But I need to do this," Clint said softly, resigned.

Tony hesitated before slowly nodding. "Alright. But I'll be visiting. They can't stop me from doing that. If I hear they hurt you they're all dead men."

Clint sighed. He hadn't expected anything less. Tony had always been rather protective of Clint. Hearing that he wanted to go to Shield, away from him, from where he could protect Clint. It would have been hard for him to accept. But he wouldn't tell Clint, no.

Tony gave Clint's hand a quick squeeze before standing straight.

"Jarvis, get Fury on the line."

* * *

They got to the Tower quicker than any of the Avengers thought they would.

Fury ordered one of the Agents to handcuff Clint which Tony had protested strongly against. Fury just stated it was a precaution and the Agent pushed Clint ahead of them into the elevator.

Clint caught Tony's eyes just before they had closed, Tony looking stricken. Then they shut and Tony was lost from view.

"You did the right thing, Barton," Fury told the archer who wouldn't look at the director. "If it's true that Loki is controlling you then you would have only been a danger to your friends if you had said nothing."

Clint nodded stiffly as he was led out of the elevator and to the front of the building. The Agent opened the door of the car and Clint got in without a protest, shifting uncomfortably as the cuffs dug into his back.

The driver got in along with Fury in the passenger seat. Clint kept his eyes down. This was hard enough as it was. He didn't need any reason for them to distrust him even more by thinking he was acting suspicious somehow.

There was no talking the whole ride there which in all honesty, Clint didn't mind. He wanted Fury's full attention when he had to explain it. He didn't want to have to repeat himself. Tony had already explained most of the situation to the director, but surely the man would still have questions?

They finally arrived, the Agent taking him out of the car. Fury walked in front, Clint and the Agent who held Clint tightly by the arm, following closely.

He was led inside the Shield building, down the halls and into one of the many interrogation rooms. He was sat down rather roughly, but he only grunted, adjusting his sitting position as Fury sat on the other side of the table.

"So," Fury said calmly, "Loki is back?"

Clint flinched at the name. "He is. Thor informed us that he had broken out of Asgards prison cells."

"And we are only finding out about this now?" Fury asked.

Clint bit his lip. "I didn't learn of it until recently, Sir."

"And the nightmares? From what I was told, those weren't recent at all," Fury said, changing tactics.

Clint swallowed. "I didn't see a reason to be alarmed. They were only dreams."

"Yes, they were. But they aren't now. You do realise, had you come to us before when this all started, you wouldn't have been able to hurt Stark?" Fury said, his voice firm.

Clint clenched his chained hands into fists. "I thought they were meaningless. Had I known what it would lead to I would have gotten help sooner."

"They obviously weren't meaningless to you," Fury said. "Putting into consideration that you have self harmed and attempted suicide."

Clint's breathing hitched. "Did Tony—"

"Stark didn't say a word," the director said. "Shield has eyes everywhere, Barton."

Clint's voice wavered as he spoke. "Then you can hardly blame me for saying nothing. Especially as it seems you never trusted me since the beginning as you've been keeping tabs on me."

"We keep tabs on all of you," Fury said, referring to the other Avengers. "But yes. You most of all. Loki played with your mind, Barton. Did you really expect us to let you go and not to keep a close watch on you?"

Clint lowered his eyes to the table. "No. But I did at least expect a bit of privacy for one of your best spies."

"Don't try guilting me when you so obviously do not trust us either," Fury snapped.

"Can you help me or not?" Clint demanded getting tired of the conversation. His head pounded and he just wanted to lie down and have one night's good rest.

"We'll help you," Fury told him. "We need you in order to find Loki and lock him back up."

Clint knitted his eyebrows together. "How will you—"

"Don't worry, Barton," Fury said, standing up. "We have our methods. All we need is your co-operation. Whether that be willingly—" Fury glanced at someone over Clint's shoulder.

Clint's eyes went wide in realization as he whipped around in his seat only for the back of his head to be grabbed by the hair by an Agent. He barely got out a shout of protest when his head was slammed against the table. He yelled, his eyesight fuzzing up. He felt his hearing aids slip out of his ears when his head hit the desk and tried to squirm out of the man's grasp but got nowhere.

His head was yanked back and there was a prick like a pinch at his neck.

A needle. A sedative.

He could already feel it working, his mind fuzzing up. He met Fury's eyes across the table and saw him mouth the rest of his sentence before he blacked out.

" _— or not._ "

•°•°•°•

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ✒Yesssss. Finally! Okay, Loki will be introduced soon. Hopefully next chapter, but if not then the chapter after that✒


	8. Chapter 8

⚠ **️** **Warning: strong language** **, torture⚠️**

°•°•°•°

"What the fuck do you mean we can't see him?!"

Tony was absolutely fuming at the Shield desk lady who was point blank refusing to let them see their archer friend. She had made some cock and bull story about Clint needing rest from the tests to rid of the spell Loki had over him. But Tony didn't believe a word of it.

"I'm sorry, Sir. But he's not available at the moment," the lady stated, making Tony's scowl deepen.

Natasha crossed her arms. "When will we be able to see him then?" She asked, her gaze of the desk lady cool.

The lady shook her head. "I do not know ma'am. Whenever he is awake and ready to see you."

"Not good enough," Tony growled. "You either tell me what the fuck is going on or else I'm-"

"Tony, don't bother," Natasha said, taking his arm. "We'll come back tomorrow to check on him," she informed the lady before turning Tony firmly towards the exit of the building, leading Tony outside.

As soon as they were in the car Tony swore, running a frustrated hand through his hair as Natasha started up the car. "I can't believe this shit. I knew letting Shield have him was a bad idea."

Natasha reversed out and got onto the roads. "I know, Tony. None of us thought it was a good idea. But we have to stay level headed. We can't let Shield get their way. They want us to be irrational about this, but we can't let it get to us, do you understand."

"I understand," Tony muttered though he still looked as if he wanted to punch something. "It doesn't mean I have to like it."

Natasha sighed, driving them home.

Tony stared out the window, his gaze a thousand miles away. "I just hope he's okay," he whispered, not loud enough for Natasha to hear. "Please be okay."

Tony would go home to Thor for comfort, who would tell him that Clint would be fine, not knowing he was anything but.

* * *

Clint bit at his bottom lip, his teeth sinking harder and harder into the flesh until blood blossomed as he broke through skin. The copper taste filled his mouth and he groaned, turning his head to the side so as to let the blood dribble out of his mouth.

He was laid out on an operating table like some lab experiment which to Shield, it was exactly what he was. His wrists and ankles were held down by iron shackles. His clothes were torn up and dirty from him fighting the Agents the first time he had woken up.

He had been in a containment cell. Agents had come in and had beaten Clint to a pulp in order to make him fess up any information on where Loki might be. Like Clint fucking knew. How the fuck was he meant to know were the phyco god was?

Eventually they got tired of this and brought him here. Pinning him down to the table and started running tests on him. Injecting stuff into his bloodstream. Some had no affect. Some had him screaming for hours. Others made him black out.

He wasn't exactly fed. Not through his mouth anyway. They hooked up a feeding tube, not trusting him enough to give him real food to eat normally without making a fuss. But he constantly felt starved.

The Agent liked to shock him. A lot. Electricity coursed through his body a third time that day and he was taking all his energy up in making sure he didn't yell. Not that it mattered all that much whether he did or not. But his pride wouldn't have it.

What they thought they were accomplishing doing this, he had no idea. He honestly didn't give a damn if the shocks killed him at this point. Everything hurt anyway.

The shocks stopped and Clint allowed himself to catch his breath.

The Agent's muttered among themselves and Clint turned his head to the other side so he could glare at Fury through the glass window that separated them. Stupid fucking pirate.

Clint took a shuddering breath, turning away and closing his eyes.

He wouldn't have minded it all so much if it was actually accomplishing something. But it wasn't. If anything, it was making the nightmares worse. He still had them. Whenever he blacked out or was allowed a moment of rest it would be ruined by him waking up from killing a loved one.

He would have thought that one of his friends would have at least come to check on him, to demand to see him. But no one had. Fury said no one had come by to see him. Clint had felt his hopes at being rescued dashed. He thought that Tony at least would have come, or Natasha. But apparently they didn't really care about him at all.

What he would give for someone, _anyone_ , to come and save him.

He felt another shock going through his body and he opened his mouth to let out a scream he couldn't hear.

* * *

Clint didn't know when or why he blacked out. Whether it was from the shocks or if they had injected him with something, he had no clue.

He opened his eyes blarily, the room fuzzy, cold creeping into his bones. He swallowed hard, shivering at the coldness. He always felt cold these days, but never like this. He felt like he was in a freezer.

He lifted his head and looked around but he was alone. The Agents must have ceased their experiments on him. What was the fun in it if their subject couldn't scream?

He let his head drop back onto the table with a soft sigh escaping his bloody lips. He knew it wouldn't be forever, but a moment of peace was definitely not uncalled for.

He arched on the table, trying to make himself more comfortable on the steel. He pulled slightly at the cuffs as he did, chafing his wrists as he did making him hiss in pain.

That's when a moment was caught out the corner of his eye.

His breathing hitched in his throat as he tried to strain his neck to turn his head. But he couldn't make it do as he wanted. He knew now that he wasn't alone. Someone else was here, out of his line of vision.

Clint swallowed hard. He didn't want anymore pain. He wanted to be left in peace. Or better yet, killed. If they didn't trust him the least they could do was kill him. He didn't want to hurt anyone. If that meant he had to die, then he was okay with that.

Just, please, no more pain.

He squeezed his eyes shut tight. He could feel himself weakening, his energy failing him again. He couldn't stay awake for so long. He didn't want to be left vulnerable to whoever it was, but he couldn't fend them off even if he did stay awake.

There was a cool hand against his cheek and he shuddered, waiting for inevitable pain.

But none came.

Instead, the hand slid down his arm to the chains around his wrist. There was a pause and then Clint felt the chain break, trailing away from his wrists. The same was done gr or his ankles, only a stinging pain from the bruises around them.

What—?

Clint tried to open his eyes but his eyelids felt too heavy. He was falling back into the darkness.

He was only aware of being picked up in strong arms before everything disappeared into oblivion.

•°•°•°•

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ✒Okay! Next chapter will be (most likely) about Loki and Clint. Until next time!✒


	9. Chapter 9

⚠️ **Warning** **: strong language** **, strong language** ⚠️

°•°•°•°

Clint woke up with his whole body aching just slightly. Though, considering how his body was usually always in constant pain, this was a rather nice turn of events.

He sat up slowly, putting an arm around his stomach as it churned, threatening to empty itself all over the place. He realized as he looked around that he was in a large bed, smothered under a mountain of blankets.

Well, this is a nice turn of events. Only...where the hell was he?

The last thing he remembered was being Shield. He'd been strapped to a table, experimented on. He had blacked out, had hadn't he? But no. He'd regained consciousness. There had been someone there with him. Clint hadn't seen them. He knew they had broken the cuffs and picked him up...they had rescued him?

Clint looked around the room again, fingers nervously twitching. He hated the fact that everything was so quite. His hearing aids were still gone rendering him deaf. Only a faint ringing was heard from his damaged hearing.

He took a breath that he couldn't hear. No need to panic. If what he thought was true then someone had rescued him from Shield. They wouldn't have done so if they were planning on hurting him anyway. Or...maybe he was wrong. Maybe it was someone who had seen him as an important experiment to Shield and had taken him as leverage against Shield. But then why put him in bed, a comfortable bed instead of in a cell? He wondered if the person whoever they were even had a cell.

He breathed out when a hopeful thought came to him. Tony! It had to be. Why else would someone rescue him? It had to be his genius friend. If anyone could break him out of Shield it would have been him.

Those thought were dashed however as the door of the room opened and the last person he ever would have expected to see walked in. Clint's mouth dropped open, eyes going wide in both shock and fear and an unheard word to his own ears fell from his lips in what he assumed was a harsh whisper.

_"Loki?!"_

The Norse god of Mischief surveyed Clint with curious, almost wary green eyes. Clint stared back with wide blue eyes.

The person who had caused all this, this whole thing to happen, the nightmares, the attempt murder on Tony, the torture he'd endured from Shield, was now standing calmly in front of him like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like it was completely fine.

And Clint was pissed.

He shoved back the covered, standing up on the bed before lunging at Loki, all rational thought gone from his head. He knew it was a stupid idea. Loki was a god and he was only a weak pathetic excuse of a human being. He couldn't outmatch Loki.

But he didn't care. He wanted Loki to hurt just as much as he had been hurting for the past month. And the only way he could think to do that, or at least close to amount of pain he had gone through, was to inflict physical pain on the god.

He managed to wrap his hands around the ravens throat as he brought him roughly against the wall, squeezing hard. Loki choked as his airways were cut off, grabbing Clint's wrists and tried to pry his hands away from his throat but Clint wouldn't relent, squeezing harder.

"C-Clinton, stop!" Loki gasped out, tearing said mans hand away from his throat and twisted their bodies around, slamming Clint to the wall, head banging against it making his vision fuzz out for a second. When it cleared he found his arms pinned above his head and Loki's faces inches away from his own. "Are you calm now? Or do you want me to knock your head a few more times to get some sence into your thick skull?"

Clint snarled, turning his face away from those poisonous green eyes.

Wait, green?

Clint looked back, eyes seeking out Loki's. There is was. Clear as day. Green. Green eyes. But, no. Loki had blue eyes. He _knew_ Loki had blue eyes!

...didn't he?

Clint swallowed. "Can you're eyes change color or something. Because they sure as fuck aren't green."

Loki flinched as if Clint had hit him even though the archers arms were still pinned to the wall. Loki let them go, stepping back. Clint rubbed his sore wrists, glaring at Loki. He debated running, but he didn't like his chances. He didn't know where he was at the moment. He could be in New York or possibly China. Hell, he could be on another fucking planet for all he knew.

"My eyes have always been green, Barton," Loki said though there was no bite like Clint expected there to be. In fact, Loki looked tired. "If you're calmer now, I suggest you take a shower. You stink and your clothes are filthy. There are clothes in the drawers. When you're done, meet me in the lounge area so we can talk."

"Why the fuck should I do what you say?" Clint growled at the god who looked unimpressed.

"Because," Loki said, looking at him with those green eyes Clint swore had been blue. "I'm the only one who can make the nightmares stop."

Clint breath caught in his throat as Loki turned and walked out the room.

Clint swallowed. He could always try to run. Try and escape. But he doubted he'd be able to. Loki probably warded the place with magic or some shit so no one could get in...and no one could get out.

He sighed in defeat. There was only one thing for it.

He went and took a shower.

•°•°•°•

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ✒Next chapter will be a bit on the Avengers and a bit on Loki and Clint. Hope you liked this chap. Sorry it was a bit short✒


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ⚠️Warning: strong language⚠️

"I can't fucking _believe_ this shit!"

The others watch the video surveillance Tony had hacked into having nothing better to do. They watched again as the guard smashed Clint's head against the desk, knocking him unconscious with a sedative before being dragged from the room.

"I knew something wasn't fucking right. Fury that fucking _asshole_!" Tony yelled before his fists slammed into a wall.

Steve went to get up to comfort his friend but Thor who was closer got there first, taking Tony's small hands in his and gently brushing his fingers over the slowly bruising knuckles. "Calm yourself, Anthony. Nothing will get done if you go to pieces now. You're smarter than all of us combined. We need you to help the Eye of Hawk get out of Shield custody. Do you understand?"

Tony was looking down at his hands in Thor's, tear drops clinging to his lashes before he forced a nod. Thor was right. He couldn't break down over this. He had to be strong for Clint.

Tony let out a shaky breath, moving forward and mushed his face into Thor's hard chest. He tried to hold back the tears but it was hard. Clint was his best friend beside Natasha. Losing him...he couldn't even think about the possibility. He couldn't lose his best friend, his pranking buddy, his partner in crime. He'd already lost so many people close to him. He couldn't bear Clint being another.

He felt Thor wrap his arms around him and cuddled up closer into the warm embrace. Thor was like a giant huggable teddy bear. If there was one thing he wanted right now it was warm cuddles from the Asgardian man.

Yeah, he was soft.

"I'm fine," Tony mumbled, muffled against Thor's chest taking a deep calming breath before pulling away, clearing his throat as everyone stared at him. Great. Now he looked like an idiot for falling to pieces. Just great. He sighed. "Look, we know Clint is in Shield. I can hack a few surveillance cameras and figure out where he is."

Steve nodded. "We'll keep trying with Shield. Try to let them see him, see what excuses they make."

Tony sighed softly. "I'm going down to the lab. I'll work there. I just...need a minute  
..." he walked away, not waiting for anyone to say if it was okay or even offer him comfort.

He just wanted his best friend back.

* * *

Clint had a long shower.

He wasn't inclined to get out anytime soon. There were no windows in the bathroom to escape through. He couldn't run for it because this place, house, wherever the hell he was, was huge and he had no idea which way the exit was.

A conversation with Loki was inevitable. But he would prolong it for as long as he damn well could.

He washed off the grim and blood crusted and dried from his body. He watched the pink colored water wash down the drain, disappearing in an instant. He wished he could make his memories disappear as easily.

He eventually got out the shower, toweling himself dry. Once he was dry, he took a look at himself in the mirror.

He looked like shit.

Large bruises blossomed all over his body, purple, blue and black. His hair was a damp mess. His face looked tired, worn out as much as he felt. He wasn't a pretty sight.

He pressed a hand to his chest where a large bruise spread there, wincing when he applied pressure. Yeah, he definitely bruised his ribs.

Clint sighed, turning to the clothes he'd brought with him from the bedroom. He picked out the simplest ones that looked most comfortable. Some comfy pants and a soft shirt that felt nice against his bruised skin.

He looked in the mirror again, mostly happy with his appearance. At least he didn't look like a half dead hobo that had gotten into a fight.

Taking a deep breath, he headed to the door knowing there was nowhere to go and _he_ was expecting him. Well, he could always hide back in the bedroom under the bed or closet but that was kinda embarrassing and sad. Plus, he still had to find out how to get out of here. Hiding wouldn't accomplish that.

He walked out to the lounge seeing the god sitting on a couch reading a book and didn't look up until Clint sat on the couch furthest away from him.

"I had wondered whether or not when you were coming out of the bathroom or if you had decided to drown yourself in the shower somehow," Loki said, setting the book aside as he looked at Clint, eyes searching the others.

Clint looked away. "What do you want from me?"

"To protect you," Loki stated simply.

Clint looked back with a glare. "Bullshit. Tell me the real reason. Why did you take me from Shield?"

Loki looked at him calmly. "They were hurting you."

"But that's not the reason, is it?" Clint growled.

Loki hesitated. "No...it isn't. But even so, I wouldn't have left you to their mercy."

"What's. The. Reason," Clint said firmly.

Loki sighed. "Fine. The reason I took you is because you need to be watched and I need to make sure you don't hurt anyone."

"Excuse me?" Clint asked harshly. "You're the one who's been making me hurt people! Sending me those dreams! Making me hurt my friends! That was _you_!"

Loki was shaking his head. "I didn't do that to you. There is no gain in doing that."

"For fucks sake. You do this shit because you like it. Don't play dumb with me. You've been fucking with my mind ever since you took control over it," Clint hissed.

"That wasn't me," Loki whispered.

"Wasn't you? Wasn't _you_?! Then who the fuck was it Loki!" Clint yelled, managing to say the god's name without his voice cracking or falling to pieces. "Who was it that made me hurt my friend during the attack? Who was it that made me kill Coulson? Who was it that makes me want to end my existence every single fucking day to protect the people who shouldn't care about me, who should despise me but don't because they want me around?! Who was it Loki?!"

Loki was silent.

"Exactly," Clint panted, feeling out of breath. His head hurt, his vision fading in and out. "It was you. You're the one who did this to me."

"I didn't," Loki said, voice even. "Someone else did."

"Liar," Clint breathed.

"I'm not. I wouldn't lie. Not about this," Loki said. "But clearly you're not well enough to discuss it at the present moment. You need food and rest."

"I've rested enough and I don't need you fucking charity. I'm leaving," Clint stated, going to stand.

His vision swam and his legs gave out.

He felt arms around his waist and when the hell had Loki stood up? He didn't know and he didn't really care. He tried to struggle out of the hold but it only made his headache worse.

"Clinton, please. I'm trying to help," Loki said softly, calming, reassuring. All the things Clint didn't want him to be. This was the person who had ruined his life. He shouldn't be comforting.

He didn't know how to handle this. Hate, anger, pain. That he could handle from the god. That he would have understood.

But care, kindness, attention. No. He didn't know how to handle that.

"Please, I don't—" a sob tore from Clint's throat and he hated that he was showing such weakness.

There was a cool hand on his forehead and the pain in his head lessened to nothing. "There. That should protect you until we can talk properly. You need rest. When you wake you can eat."

Clint was too tired to argue. He wanted to run. Wanted to push Loki away. But he couldn't. And a part of him didn't want to. He had stopped caring about what happened to him a long time ago. It was easier to just give in.

He went limp in Loki's arms and slipped into a dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ✒Poor Clint. Don't worry, he'll get better! ...maybe😈✒

**Author's Note:**

> ✒So, I love Clint, shipped with like, pretty much anyone. Clint and Tony are my fav, but Clint and Loki are a close second. So, I thought of this and was like, 'what the heck?' so yeah. You'll love the plot twists I'm planning. It's gonna be awesome >:3✒


End file.
